Pushing Past
by Arbitrary Escape
Summary: Moving on isn't just a decision; it's the intent to live your life past survival. A journey of Hikigaya Hachiman's high school years in snapshots and thinly-cut slices of life.


Summary: Moving on isn't just a decision; it's the intent to live your life past survival. A journey of Hikigaya Hachiman's high school years in snapshots and thinly-cut slices of life.

Rating: T for themes that _may_ not be child-friendly

Tags: drama, pseudo-melodrama, gen, slice of life, slight angst, pseudo tragedy

* * *

**Disclaimer: Characters are owned by Watari Wataru**

* * *

Sorry, they said. Your son was a promising young tennis player.

I barely registered the fleeting footsteps, or the shrieking of any other mouth, as my mind closed in on itself. Was. Was. _Was_. The word haunted me. It damned me. The back of my forearm rested against my eyes as I let the emotions play themselves out. Tears trickled down my face as I realized that my life was never going to be the same.

Unfortunate, they called it; a tragedy that ended someone before he could begin to live his life. It was a shame, they mentioned, that he was almost full - but almost was never 'actually.' They didn't even have to tell me.

I was numb when I woke up, but I remembered that I knew it from the get-go. Something was wrong. Something about the whiteness of the ceiling tiles made my breath catch with fright. Or was it the way the air tasted?

My fingers worked. They twiddled about and I checked each one carefully as I flexed the individual digits. My fists clenched. I moved on. My arms were able to be raised, albeit painfully. A heavy breath came to my lungs, but I pushed it through. Slowly, I tried to move my lower half. My chest heaved with the effort. My legs did not.

The pause between thought and cohesion was disturbingly long for a mind as sharp as my own, but the edge with which it dug into me was excruciatingly tangible.

No. _No_. _NO_. Why. No. Why.

It's not fair. Not me; I haven't done anything - I'll never get to do anything - I don't think I'll do anything wrong again. Please, God; why?

The sheets hurt. Was it my hands? Why. Why. What did I do to deserve this; was this something else I had done in a past life? This was my hope, my dreams, my aspirations and ambitions. What more did I have to lose? My heart clenched at the thought, and suddenly, the world took a turn into the basement of Bastion Amontillado. Fairness was overrated, but even this was surely too much.

My breath huffed, ragged as the bones under my skin. It hurt. Dreams of being a professional meant nothing when I could never get past the seams of disbelief and stare into the face of reality. I remembered my hands reached for my hair and I know tried to scream. But my throat itched with underuse and started to burn; I felt the scratched flesh threatening to bleed.

The next thing I felt were arms enclosing around him and heard actual screams. My vision blacked and I couldn't recall anything besides a painfully uttered "I'm sorry."

When I woke up again, the lights stung, a miniature sun and myself the void. "Is anyone there?"

"Nngh..." I stilled. That wasn't someone I knew. Most guys wouldn't say that the sight of a girl at their bed would make them uncomfortable; I wasn't most guys. The last memory I had of being alone with a girl that wasn't his sister… I withheld my urge to shiver. Gently, I shook her awake with a healthy does of hesitation and kept a proper amount of distance.

"Hey," I whispered. "Are you okay?"

She shot up slowly; her back ramrod straight, even as she yawned her arms into an arch and wiped her eyes. "Haah..?" She caught sight of him and flushed. "Oh. Uh… Hi," she finished lamely, voice weak, tinged with awkwardly laughter.

I couldn't help my smile. "Hi. My name's Hikigaya Hachiman, and I'm almost certain you're in the wrong room. Because as far as I know, I don't have any friends who are girls."

The girl giggled in response. "My name's Yuigahama Yui!"

My brows furrowed. "Yui-yui?"

She pouted. "Everyone always makes fun of me for that…"

"Well, I can't because there's too much to make fun of me for." He leaned back, the pillows comforting what little he could feel. "So uh, you ever gonna tell me why you're here?"

Her face paled. She seemed to sink into her chair as she grasped the sheets. I looked at her and felt a feeling of dread snake its way through my intestines. It wasn't like I knew everything she was about to say, but my gut was one of my more trustworthy components. "It's my fault. I saw you. That dog you helped? He's mine." She choked on her words, one by one.

And despite those instincts forewarning me, I felt numb. An explosion tore through; leviathan in nature, it roared. She flinched at my expression; she felt the tears before they formed. The apology was on her lips, but it dispelled as I sighed. Her own anxiety was swallowed by the sobbing.

How could you. _How_? The words were on my lips before I bit them down. The screams tore themselves asunder, dying, shattered calls for help that seemed to sink before the shore. I wanted to yell. But honestly, what would that change; would it make her happy? Would it make me feel relieved? What would it have accomplished?

I hadn't even realized I was hyperventilating until I registered the touch of flesh, arms, encircling me and whispers of "Sorry, sorry, sorry…" accompanied by hiccups and tears. My own arms found themselves grasping her back, in spite of my throat's dryness and my heart's anger. I understood it was never her intention. Her apology would never abate my anger; but her sincerity stilled it.

She let me go and we sat in the silence for a while. "Sorry, Yuigahama-san. I didn't mean to make you cry."

"You're an idiot," she laughed.

"I guess I am."

* * *

"So, this is the front office; the teacher's lounge is down the hall to your right and the nursery is at the end of the left. You won't have any classes here for a while, considering you're not taking part in P.E. First years' classes are on the third floor." The grand tour was not as grand as I thought; it was much more. I honestly expected her to dump me after the first five minutes and go return to whatever it was that teachers did. "Any questions so far?"

I shook my head. "No, ma'am. It's all been pretty good." And it was true; she didn't judge me. A flash of _something_, definitely not pity, trickled through her eyes when we first shook hands, but I could tell that she was more focused on who I was than who I wasn't.

"Glad to hear it. Anyway, we do have an elevator in the school, but it's not in the best spot. Sorry 'bout that."

"It's okay, Sensei. I'm not really… well, on best terms with people. Or any terms, really," I added with a wry smile. "But I'm guessing I'll have to sit front-row during class."

"Yeah, you're not getting out of that one. Anyway, let's go. I'll show you to the elevator; considering I'll be teaching you literature, I hope you're prepared."

"Sorry, Sensei. You'll be disappointed to learn that _Vampire Hunter D_ was my junior-high favorite, and that I am a lover of the light-novel genre." Rest in pieces, _Log Horizon_. She laughed and tapped my shoulders. "But you I'm a fan of literature from all over the world. Don't know if you're only teaching Japanese, but I hope you're doing more than that."

She smiled at him as she answered, "Yeah. May not look it, but I grew up around the world, and it's come in handy here and there." My brows rose; she noticed my new, much more appreciative - hey! Not that kind of appreciative… somewhat - glance.

"Stoker's _Dracula_?"

"Mhm."

"_Les Mis_?"

"Yup."

"_The Tempest_? _A Midsummer Night's Dream_? _Paradise Lost_?"

She laughed. It was a wonderful sound, because it was as genuine as my own when it came to these very same works. "I think I'm going to like you, kid."

"Yeah, and I have a feeling you'll be the first teacher I end up loving if you keep this up."

She wheeled me into the classroom, a tune slipping between her lips as she did so. Though I was confident I could do it on my own, she said that it would make a better impression if I came in with her.

"Class, this is Hikigaya Hachiman; he hasn't been in class for the first month for personal reasons. If I catch you guys bugging him and making fun of his disabilities, forget detention; I'll be calling in your parents and letting them know, ASAP. Got it?" Frantically nodding heads cued me in on the detail that she was not to be crossed. Excellent; I'd acquired a rather useful ally.

My eyes lit up as I recognized one of my classmates and gave her the barest of smiles, and she returned it with the slightest of waves. Huh. I couldn't say that I was surprised, but at the same time, the barest of flinches crept its way through my frame as I thought about her situation.

Oh well, I thought. I ventured; and if I gained naught, it was not a worry. Expectations, I reminded myself, were cruel because they were nothing more than your own perceptions. Whether or not they were real had to be trialed and then erred.

Class blew by like the summer wind; lazily and heatedly. They weren't wrong when they said Soubu was intense for its academics. I honestly thought it was going to be a breeze. Honestly, I was surprised to see that most of the students weren't dallying around. Even the jock types seemed to understand that it was school first in here.

Math was better than I expected, but Hiratsuka-sensei's lectures for both English and Japanese left a creeping chill of joy in my stomach. When she called for lunch, I wheeled myself out and about to a window in the hallway. I'd caught sight of the courts earlier as I first entered the classroom.

The scratching sound that arrived in my ears drew my attention toward my side. Surprisingly, a really cute girl pulled up to me, plopped herself down on a chair and all. She was kind of standoff-ish from what I'd noticed. "I recognized you." Her voice was soft and laced with sadness. I forced the urge to sneer back down; she hadn't done me any wrong.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I was at Nationals, too. I saw you and some of the others, like Tachibana Kippei and Tezuka Kunimitsu."

"Aah." Kippei and Mitsu had both stopped by since the accident and paid their respects. Last that I'd heard, Kunimitsu had seen in me how suddenly life could change and wished to have his own future restored. Germany must have suited him well if he chose to stay. "Yeah, we go a while back, us three.

"So," I turned my head toward her ever so slightly, "anything I can do for you, Miss..?"

"Miura. Miura Yumiko. And no, not really. But I figured you could use some company. I saw Yuigahama wave to you, but honestly, she's kind of caught up in her own world at the moment. She's popular and gets pulled all over the place. She's flustered by the attention and is too nice to turn anyone down or push them out of her sphere."

"Yeah, but there's always time after school," I shrugged. "She's not a bad girl, but I'm not sure how easy it'll be to be friends with someone like me, especially in public."

Miura cast a judging eye. Well, not so much judging as it was thoughtful. "A girl's gotta have priorities, I guess. How long have you known her?"

"Honestly? Only for little while. I uh… I met her right around the time this," I gestured toward my legs, "happened, and we talked a lot. Wasn't expecting much when I got here, though. She's got her own life, and I don't mind being a dirty little secret."

"Ew," the girl wrinkled her nose. "How self-important do you feel? Geez…" We both laughed.

"Anyway, I'm guessing if you were at Nationals, you're probably not so bad a player. Did your team make it far?"

"Actually," a wistful voiceful interrupted me. "I was going to be the third seed in the tournament. Then I sprained my wrist right before it started; my final season as a junior high player cut short by that. And at the time, everyone around me was so focused on the tournament that they didn't have time for me. By the time it was over, there was no place for me in their circle anymore."

My eyes drifted back to the players below. "You thinking of getting back into it though?"

"Nah. After I got back into for a while, I realized that I just didn't have it in me anymore. It's tough, you know, seeing the people you trained with and were friends with just… move on, like it didn't mean anything. That was the furthest the team had gotten as a whole, but I'd been to Nats plenty of times and it hadn't really changed me. Kind of just made me reevaluate who I was as a person and whom I wanted to be friends with, y'know?"

I shifted uncomfortably. She understood, because all her remarks hit too close to home. "Yeah. When Kippei left for Tokyo because of what he did to Chitose, it was kind of awkward when all of us got together. And now, it's kind of worse. The only players that sort of still come along to talk are Seichi and that egghead, Oishi."

"Well, don't stay out here too long. I'll be heading back in. Don't be too shy, Hikigaya-san. But don't think we're friends," she warned. "If you wanna talk, you have to at least try. You can do that much, at least."

"Thank you," I said. "Thanks for looking out for me even though no one else in the classroom has come out yet. And thank you for not treating me as a pity-party; I'm no one's charity case."

I stared at the courts for a few more minutes before the bell rang and I wheeled myself back into the classroom, determined to see the day through. Miura may not have been my friend, and Yuigahama might be on the fence with me actually being in her sphere of reality now that I wasn't someone she could get away to, but there was more to life than wallowing.

* * *

It had been two months since I entered Soubu High, and in that time, I had come to realize that it was hard to get past loving the things you could no longer do. Perhaps it was within my nature to be such a cruel beast - both to myself and to others. Perhaps it was the nature of curiosity or even longing itself to haunt the mortal realm and inhabit those who inhabited said world. Or, perhaps, it was simply coincidence against the wishes of fate.

Regardless, the more I sat in the confines of my classroom walls, the bitterness never seemed to abate as I saw a rather effeminate young boy. Every action of his ruined me as I watched him struggle his way through life.

Not because I loathed him, but simply because I was broken by the sight of his trials and errors. He approached me because he saw value in my experience and technique to my criticisms. It was warming to see someone discover a passion they hadn't pursued before, but it was utterly terrifying to gaze upon my own dark soul and find absolute jealousy. Even though Totsuka's own talents were entirely dwarfed by mine, I was the one who could not stand on a court ever again.

It wasn't that he had no aptitude for the sport itself, but it was humiliating to me. Pride was often a terrible thing, I was told, and even told others. But it was a human thing, I repeated to myself. And fairness was a human fallacy.

I did my best to guide Totsuka. It was up to him to succeed, and I had gone to a few of his matches before even the sight of a competitive court overtook me with an indescribable longing and pain. Words, though my forte, did not begin to convey the connection I once had with my sword in hand as I stood upon the field in search of enemy soldiers.

I felt a deep kindred with spirits of vengeance and yet no head to guide them; a Dullahan, if I were to speak truly. Something to that effect. It was… enlightening, to say the least. Self-reflection was not an experience with which I was too intimately familiar, as my thoughts had most often been dominated by my desire to reach greater heights on the court. But with my newfound abundance of time, it seemed inevitable that this train of thought would plague me sooner than later.

Honestly, I would have liked to say that my life got better; that I walked past all the things that bogged me down, but it really wasn't the case. That wasn't to say my life didn't have its highlight reels or its fun points, but it was different now. I did have an outlet though. The one constant I had was my love for literature, and so, that was where I ended up investing most of my time: working at the Soubu High library. And funnily enough, Yuigahama was the person I shared the most shifts with. Speaking of...

"Hey, Hikki!" said girl plopped herself next to me and broke into my sphere of imagination. She waved cutely as she pulled out her textbook and began to work on our science homework. I glanced down at the pages of my journal that slowly filled themselves; I needed to get another, I supposed.

"How'd you do on the last science exam, Yuigahama-san?"

"Eh… for which part? I think I scored within the top twenty-five of the first years overall, but chemistry was the part that made the most sense to me. B-but it's not like I'm super good at it! I just studied a bit..." she broke off into a mumble as she scratched her neck. I smiled at her appreciatively; I adored the side of her that was the academic she so tried to hide.

"Well, better than me at least. I only scored well in the physics section of the sciences. I did pretty well with the liberal arts sections, though." It was no secret between us that I was the language, literature, and history junkie. That being said, it wasn't like I was academically-gifted; I just had a wide appreciation for said subjects, which she often teased me about. I scooted closer to her. "Wanna help me study for the sciences then? You've already got your textbook out."

"Yeah, sure."

And that was pretty much how my days went by; I distracted myself with the pleasantries of school, often times talking to Yuigahama, though only in the privacy of the library. At first, I had been nothing but skeptical of the situation between Yuigahama and myself. After all, it seemed rather annoying to be kept in the dark, but I brooded over my past and how much of my interaction with my own teammates and rivals had dwindled. By this point, I felt confident that, though our interaction was limited, Yuigahama and I established something of a mutual acquaintance.

There were rare occasions where we would sit and talk outside of the library, all bound by the promise of schoolwork and cooperation during a class assignment. And yet, it was nothing but honesty to say that Yuigahama was someone I had become close to, in spite of our rather clear distance. There were things I could share with her that I did not with my former friends Kippei and Kunimitsu, simply due to our lives being in rather close proximity.

Miura and I, on the other hand, were often seen lounging together all over the school. I daresay that she was the strangest girl I had the fortune to meet, but our relationship worked. She talked to me about the many guys she held interests in and how many she interested. I told her about my dazed contemplations on what my future seemed to lack: i.e., we used each other well.

"Oi, Hikki, do you think that girl is okay?" My train of thoughts chipped into bits as Yuigahama whispered, pointing to a girl whose eyes, though I couldn't confirm it, seemed rather red. I had seen her around before and her appearance was nothing but impeccable. However, her hair was currently matted beyond recognition, at least in regards to her normal state of dress, as though she struggled to even keep the simplest of fronts.

The decency inside my heart, or what was left of it, urged me to be a gentleman and say something; the boy inside of me wanted to laze about. The logical aspect of my brain considered it to be rather intrusive, and I told Yuigahama, "I dunno."

We turned our attention back to our work not long after, but the sight of the girl ate at me. I glanced at the clock; strangely, only twenty minutes had passed. I caught sight of Yuigahama dozing off as her head lay against her chemistry book, notes scribbled all over the pages and her notebook filled to its brims. My eyes turned back to the girl, whose sight was locked onto a book as she shrank into her bean-chair.

I sighed and cursed the part of me that looked out for the unusual. There was something that tugged at me, and I knew I couldn't ignore it. My body carried itself over to her; I found myself across the girl as I offered her a tissue. Before she could jump up in fright or scream, I interceded, "You looked like you needed someone, but I'm bad with people. And I'm not sure what your problem is, but here."

While it looked like she was about to refuse, my insistence won out. She muttered a small thanks. I glanced back at the desk, where Yuigahama still rested. It was a slow day today, I reasoned, so there was nothing wrong with me being here instead of up there.

"Also," I had gotten a good look at the book she was reading, "I'm not sure if you're aware, but _The Hobbit _ and _The Lord of the Rings_ aren't the only books Tolkien wrote about his mythos." She blinked. "If you want another, try _The Silmarillion _\- even though it was published posthumously by his son, it's a fair read, especially if you need a bit more of world you can keep indoors."

She flushed, but smiled. Good; whatever I was doing, it was working. Words looked hard for her, so the majority of this conversation rested on my shoulders. No pressure, right? I coughed and went on, "I'm not sure if you're just trying those books out or not, but I mean, it's good to know more about them if you want a better understanding of the characters and the background that drove the eras before; essentially, you'll learn a lot. But uh, careful there. Keep going like that and you'll start to get immersed in it and get lost. For good."

Her laughter at my awful pun made me smile back at her as I scratched the back of my neck. "Anyway, if you're into foreign literature, I'd check out the shelves three rows back - that's the start of the international section. To be honest though, we don't have too much. Only the real standouts, and mostly from the English language.

"Don't be afraid to explore; and if you're concerned about what you should or shouldn't be diving into, feel free to ask. I've seen you stop by every now and then, and I'm pretty sure that Yuigahama-san," I pointed behind me to the (probably) still sleeping girl, "would be glad to help you out. Though," my voice dropped a little lower, "you'd have to keep it mostly to the sciences with her - she loses interest too quickly otherwise." The girl in front of me nodded her head. Wow, I was on a roll.

"So yeah, don't be afraid to stop by more often. I'm not really good at talking too much, but I think you caught me on a good day - sorry it had to be your bad one." She hadn't hiccupped in a while, so I figured that it was time for me to head out. "By the way… sorry for now introducing myself properly. I'm Hikigaya Hachiman. First year, class C. Nice to meet you, and I hope we'll see you again."

I saw myself to the desk and began to work on my history homework; there was still a little under an hour left for my shift, and wasted time was a life wasted.

* * *

It turned out that the girl took my words to heart and came more often. We didn't talk all the time, and even when we did, it wasn't much. She was often immersed in her own literature and studies and had little time to spare. The key to understanding it was her name: Yukinoshita. They were a rather respected family, and after weaseling out the bit that she was the second child, pity overtook my thoughts, though I expressed little sympathy and fewer condolences.

No one _wanted_ to be thought of as sorry. Yukinoshita Yukino even less so. For that, I admired her as we discussed our beliefs and debated over even the most trivial of arguments; she was inspired, and in turn, she inspired me to match her. At least where I could. It was doubtful she had ever met an intellectual equal her age, even in a school like this where many were catered to and cajoled into joining.

In one of our rarer conversations, she asked me how I had gotten into tennis. How I'd fallen in love with a love I could never bear again. I paused, as the question was good but the answer better.

"I didn't fall in love with tennis. Tennis fell in love with me. And then I fell in love with tennis. And then tennis fell out of love with me," I grinned, melancholy plasted along the elastic etches of skin and smile. "Honestly, it began when this moron Senri hit me in the head. He was dancing with his friend, Kippei, and the two traded shots. They laughed as they danced, but I was oblivious to my surroundings and walked too close to the court.

"And when I had fallen down, the two helped to pick me up; I scowled at them, but wondered what was so fun that they were so utterly devoted to such a foreign world, where all intrusions were truly just. Their skills demolished my feeble beginnings, but a fire had been lit under me. I insisted on playing more and more and even traveled throughout the country as I did so, and met other players of note.

"You might know a few of them. Atobe Keigo, yes, _that_ Atobe, and an Oshitari Yuushi are two of the wealthier players that I know of. Some others come from distinguished families, like Sanada Genichirou and Yanagi Renji. Ah, a friend of mine, Tezuka Kunimitsu comes from a rather well-known household, but he's not exactly on the same level of wealth as the others."

Yukinoshita jokingly mentioned that my harem of these fit tennis players was too good to be true. She hesitated to ask the questions that loomed behind her eyes and rested on the tip of her tongue. Without missing a beat, I continued.

"It's weird, because I'm not too social a bird, but I found my wings as I began to strive for flight. I had aptitude, people realized, because even though it took two years of struggle, I had finally made it to the national stage."

She smiled at me in a way that made my heart flutter and my stomach sink itself into my gut. It wasn't a mocking smile. It wasn't a judging one. It was one of envy and longing. I continued, a smile on my own face as I did so. "It was strange to think that people would flock to you just for having talent, but I learned that rather quickly; anyway, that's not the point. The point was that I finally had people around me, even though I wasn't much of a socialite. Just wait, it's really important. Other people, I mean."

The irony of me talking so much was not lost on either of us. "It was the people I played against that inspired me to greater heights - they were my tennis as much as my own skill. How do I explain this…" I tapped my thigh. "Ah. Have you heard of the saying that it takes two geniuses to create a beautiful game?" Yukinoshita nodded. "You cannot have one higher than the other; they must be of equal greatness at the peak of performance - that is true beauty. And that was my goal, and my rivals and friends knew it. That was why I was so well-received, I believe.

"I strove to create something more than just perform the best that I alone could have done. And to be honest, it stemmed from the fact that the very start of my tennis career was due to Kippei and Chitose. They played each other, yes, but they also played doubles quite often. It was through them that I first understood how beautiful the game could be _because_ there were other people, partners, willing or not, that helped build the puzzle.

"And it was my friend Kunimitsu who showed me how much discipline and self-control mattered. That even if the game was played between two equals, if one did not strive for perfection, then it mattered not how equal one was; of course, this is obvious to anyone, but the devotion he had… _has_… toward the game is what earned him the respect of all players, be they his peers, his seniors, or his juniors." And the attention of some German sponsors, I thought. Not that she had to know that.

"But," I paused. "None of that mattered in the end. The friends I retained are few. And I hardly talk to them at all these days. Though I suppose part of it is because we all have different goals and toils. Some of us were born less fortunate, and the bubble of childhood vanity was burst sooner than later." My mind drifted toward the most talented player I had come across, whose frail, disease-ridden body tore itself apart as he grimly chased victory. Nike was a cruel patron whose fickle love was no stranger to betrayal.

"At any rate, tennis and I are no longer a pair. Still, I love tennis greater than anything. In spite of the misfortune which befell me, I cannot give it anymore grievance; I lived my life to my fullest and tried with each passing day to cling onto the pursuit of my hopes and my dreams. No, I didn't cling, I ran toward those goals. Not that I dwell on it any longer. I am sure that, sooner rather than later, something will pique my interest." I felt an inkling of sadness that attempted to leave my eyes. I ignored it. "But please, Yukinoshita, if there is something you love and have even the slightest power to pursue, chase that love."

I did not know what she held dear, but I knew that if she were not to chase her dreams now, then they would remain dreams; fleeting and unreal. And even failure was a better taste than guilt and regret. Even loss was more than never knowing.

There was something clearly bothering her. Something that persisted over the few weeks I had known Yukinoshita, as infrequent as our conversations were, though I was certain the problems' roots were far more ingrained than she would ever care to admit.

As she walked out of the library, a chill ran through me as I repressed a shudder and let out a breath of relief. Still, as helpful to her as I attempted to be, the thought lingered: was my kindness a lie if I simply did not want to see my own face mirrored in the skin on another?

* * *

"What do you want to be, Hikigaya?"

I paused, the knife in my hand held above the shallots. "I dunno. I've thought about being a writer, but I've realized that my skills aren't in novel-making or worldbuilding, unfortunately. Not sure I can make a living off penning essays and psychological breakdowns penned into words that could be used as physical evidence to condemn me."

"Shame that you don't want to be a teacher like li'l ole me," she laughed. "You helped tutor that Yuigahama girl pretty well, and you walked Yukinoshita through some tough times. And for the record, I think you'd be a greater writer than you give yourself credit for if you just tried. Pass the salt and the miso?"

"No." Instinctively, my hand reached her wrist, my grip firm. Fortunately, by this point she barely struggled whenever I stopped her from making mistakes of rather massive proportions.

Shizuka was someone I'd seen so much more of, in spite of the fact I was no longer her student. A lot of it had to do with the fact that she advised a cooking club and somehow roped me into attending its first meeting. The rest was history. How? Well…

"Remember, you can help with the dicing, the cutting, the blending, and the shredding or grating, but all the seasoning is all me. That's not going to change until you can make a decent fried rice and donkatsu."

She pouted. It was a work in progress, however slow it was. Well, as far as work was concerned, she tried. And that itself was a miraculous success in my eyes. The amount of effort she put into anything other than her job was startlingly little, considering all the things in life she complained about.

At any rate, somehow, I ended up going over to Shizuka's twice a week after tasting something she made for the club. I vomited; i.e., it wasn't pretty. I was lucky that the school's nursery was still open, though the nurse himself was gone for the day.

After that, I started to tutor my adviser on how to not give people food poisoning, which allowed Komachi to go out with her friends if she so chose. I was scared to let her go out that often or stay at home alone, but she never failed to smile at me and push me out the door. And I was glad she did.

I didn't think the job was going to be hard - just go over a few times, show her a recipe or two and she'd be alright. Yeah, that didn't pan out either. Honestly, the fact that Shizuka was even twenty-seven was a miracle.

Then again, I was probably a better chef than most of my peers. Taking care of a younger sister was hard when I was little and it hadn't gotten easier. So getting another one wasn't too bad, I guessed. Even if she was technically my elder.

Without even looking up, I continued chopping and asked exasperatedly, "Sensei, what would you do without me?"

"Uh… what I've always done before..?" Hiratsuka-sensei looked at me as though I was insane. To her point, I probably was. Still, if she went back to her previous way of life, she'd be dead before thirty. Or something close to.

I glared at her. "You're lucky that you have a camp stove or two." And lucky that her oven was closer to the floor than most of the ones I'd seen. She sighed and washed her hands, which left me to do the rest. Shizuka went out to set the table.

"Honestly, this woman…" I muttered with a small smile. My work resumed with a slow, steady pace as final Beatles' songs drifted through the background. Shizuka had interesting taste in music, both native and foreign. "I guess I should really just let it be."

Dinner was a quiet affair; nothing suggestive or racy between student and teacher. Though that did not imply there was nothing racy about our dinner. She often complained about her troubles with securing a partner but was not without her string of one-night stands.

Her stories used to make me blink and flush ripe. Now, they only made me laugh. Even if only bitterly. "At least you can find someone," I often told her quietly.

I never once begrudged her for her guilty pleasures. And she never pitied me. She never shied away from telling me about her life, and I respected her all for it. It wasn't her fault that I resented her freedom, and it wasn't for me that she should, or would, hold herself back. When I first spat poison at her, instead of hissing and coiling to strike back, she held me and let me huff and silently scream my anguish.

The latest conquest was someone she rather wished hadn't happened the way it did. She was a friend of a friend, and it wasn't long before liquid courage kicked Shizuka a few cans in.

"And then when we woke up, Anko-chan was super pissed. Not that we hooked up, nope. But because she had to explain it to the guy's _fiancé_." Shizuka burst out laughing and I couldn't help but follow her. That was definitely one of the funnier ones.

"Really," I chipped in after a few more laughs, "she didn't bother to let you know before you two tangoed? That's kind of messed up. Can't believe people do that these days." My tablemate drowned out my questions with reminiscence and blank nods.

Then the severity of the situation actually hit me. And a cold pit grew in my stomach. "Wait," I continued slowly. "Shizuka, she actually cheated on someone… someone she was going to see at the end of the aisle."

Shizuka quieted and looked away. Her face darkened. My fingers fidgeted.

Our beliefs diverged at this fork; she didn't care, but I did, in spite of my laughter. This wasn't the first time we had this argument and it wasn't the first time this had happened, but this was definitely the first time someone who was _about to get married_.

After a great length, she spoke. "I… think it's best if I get you home."

The ride back was unbearably dark. The city was never brighter, its lights beautiful in the blackness of our tension. She helped me into my wheelchair and our eyes met for what might have been the briefest of moments as a rush of awkwardness broke between us. It wasn't uncommon, but it wasn't appreciated.

She drove off, and I watched her sadly. Was this the difference between children and adults? A frown found itself on my lips as I pondered the despairs of my own life thus far and felt their weight to be so much lighter. Did things change that much from my age to hers?

I didn't wake Komachi as I rolled into my bedroom and let my body lay itself into the sinking hold of lonely embrace. The sheets were cold. My eyes closed as I attempted to control my breathing. Turning hurt, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to dream. Reality begged to differ.

Was youth nothing but lies?

* * *

Of all the things that I expected, I hardly believed my eyes as I read Miura's latest text. Her parents were getting divorced, and she was expected to choose - I wondered how. I supposed that I could have left her to deal with the situation alone. After all, this was her problem more than mine.

Instead, I texted her: "You can stay with me. It's just me and my little sister."

That afternoon she arrived at my doorstep, bags in hand and huffing as she her face was covered in a sheen of sweat.

I had a feeling she was going to take me up on the offer, but didn't think she would have come so soon. Fortunately, I had the sense to move as much of my stuff as soon as I sent the text. Lo and behold, my premonition became truth. She stood there awkwardly until I broke the peace.

"Yo," I greeted tiredly. "You could have asked me to get your stuff with you, you know?"

She waved my concerns away. "Eh. It's all good. So uh, how's this going to work out?"

"I cleaned out my room for you; the only thing still there are the shelves, the desk, and the nightstand. The closet's not that big, but you'll learn to deal with it. Oh, and if you see my sister, feel free to drag her off for whatever scheme you have in mind. She needs someone like you."

Miura blinked. "Okay then…" She plopped herself down at the end of the couch, enabling me to roll up beside her. "Wow, I haven't been here in a while, but this place hasn't changed much."

Her eyes stopped at a framed picture laying on the coffee table. It was a rare snapshot of her, Yukimura, Yuigahama, Kunimitsu, and myself. Strange to believe that it happened over a year ago now. "...I'm guessing you're going to be sleeping out here?"

"Yeah, the apartment's small, but it's enough; the couch isn't the best, considering my situation, but I'll make do. Besides, I offered; I knew what I was getting into."

Silence settled as I saw her look of gratitude, and the two of us relaxed next to each other. The buzzing of _Pocket Monsters: The First Movie_ played distantly in the background, forgotten in the wake of our quiet. After a period of time, she continued the conversation. "Why did you offer? We barely talk anymore."

It was true. We still saw each other from time-to-time, but we often sat in different circles. The last time we had seen one another was probably two months ago.

Our friendship… or whatever it was... dwindled after two years; she began to lead a more adventurous lifestyle - one which I couldn't really follow as much due to my inability to go everywhere with her. Still, I couldn't help it. "You asked."

"Why?" She persisted.

"Honestly? You want the truth, huh." It was hard to put into words, but I tried. "Because you saved me in some ways. I remember that at the start of high school, I was just a lonely kid thrown into a classroom a month late because I made the decision to save some girl's dumb dog. And instead of sitting there, you, another lonely kid, thought it was a good idea to approach the new lonely kid and say some words.

"I'm not saying you were a miracle or that you were the reason my life turned around. That'd be a lie. But what I am saying is that you showed me a little bit of hope goes a long way. You didn't have to do much; true, my life is my own, my actions are nothing but mine. Well, so long as free will is real," I chuckled. "Anyway, that's still the important part: you did something for me.

We weren't the best of friends, sure. Maybe not even friends. But I'd like to think that we cared for each other." I smiled at her disarmingly. Or at least, that's what played out in my head. I continued. "You made me laugh; you cried on me, and I told you things no other soul on this green Earth, not even Komachi, ever knew. So it doesn't matter that we ended up drifting; that's life. I don't regret any of our relationship. I'm just walking forward and doing what I can."

She didn't talk for a while. A quiet "Thanks" broke the air as she leaned back. Yumiko hated crying, but for some reason, she was fine with it whenever it was just us. Her fingers crept between mine and clenched them for comfort. I squeezed back to affirm that everything was going to be okay.

Meanwhile, my mind thought back to the concept of 'us.'

It was just one of those truths that I learned; it wasn't quick. It wasn't sudden; it was subtle, but the realization hit like that car did. It took some time to see because maybe I was too ignorant, too complacent, or just too much of a child. In the end, that didn't matter. Life spent itself as much as it held its goods and bads from you, or so I seemed to find.

Things passed, and friends happened to be one of them. It wasn't that you were never friends with others or that they didn't know you as well. Well, maybe. But I thought it was a shame to say that, especially when the melting together and cracking apart worked on their own. The distance never erased the memories people shared.

Often, it would chip at the fondness. And I saw that it made people bitter most of the time; it happened to me. But not this time.

I glanced sideways as I finally noticed that Yumiko's breathing was shallow; she had fallen asleep. "Geez," I muttered. I grabbed the blanket I left on the coffee table and spread it over the two of us. I slid my hand back into place, our fingers linked.

Hers for strength. Mine for peace. The words were on my lips as I dazed off, one of our favorite songs on the cusp of the quiet, but not quite piercing the stillness around.

"_I can smell the death on the sheets_

_Covering me_

_I can't believe this is the end_"

* * *

_Notes: One day, I will write slice-of-life correctly. For now, I wanted to experiment with another snapshot piece where there are large gaps between the line breaks. Considered making it a drabble work where I would have it chaptered, but this was the end result. Additionally, I'd like to add that originally, this was to be written in third person and I started writing quite a bit of the earlier sections when I realized some of them were in third and then others in first. As you can see, I ended up switching to first-person only._

_If you think I should switch the story to third person, feel free to let me know._

_Thanks to those who read._


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